Charlotte Ngou Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Ngaoundere

So. This one time. Met a gal. Called herself Ruby. Real name? Who knows. Prolly not. She’s workin’ corners. Downtown. Smokin’ cheap cigs. Eyes like. She’s seen ghosts. Told me. She got robbed. Twice. Last month. No kiddin’. Pissed me off. These lowlifes. Preyin’ on her. “There’s no more time.” She says. Quotin’ Polanski’s film. Like it’s her life. And damn. It kinda is. Blew my mind. How she connected. That shit.

Домен ваш?

My massage parlor? Oh, it's the heart of the town. I've had folks spill their souls – and occasional secrets – over a massage rub. Crazy stuff, really. People come here from all ovr Ngou, even from hard-to-find streets like Twisty Ln. (so called cuz it's, like, twisty as heck, ha!). I sometimes laugh thinking about all the gossip that wafts through like scents from my essential oils.

Figure 1. The buffalo presented with two limbs and two tails outside...